Foggy Lawyer Breakdown
by Lawndale Stalker
Summary: Helen can't take the stress anymore.
1. Ch 1

FOGGY LAWYER BREAKDOWN  
Chapter One  
by Lawndale Stalker

"We called this family meeting," Jake said, struggling to hang on to his consultant's smile, "To announce that your mother has decided to retire from legal practice. She's been, um, a little overworked of late, and this seemed like a good time."

Quinn gasped, and she and Daria stared at Helen, sitting beside Jake wearing slacks, a pullover blouse that didn't go with them, and slippers. She blinked and smiled vaguely. Her left lower eyelid twitched once.

"Now I don't want you girls to worry about getting by on just my income. We'll have to cut back on a few things, sure. I'm going to cut out my trips to the track and my Thursday night poker games, and I'm sure you girls can get by on half the allowance you've been getting..."

Quinn gasped again, then quickly covered her mouth. Helen's eyelid twitched again, and she reached up and rubbed it.

"...and we'll have to cancel the cable modem service, and cut back to one phone line..."

Quinn made a strangled squeaky noise that probably would have been "eep!" if she hadn't had her hands over her mouth. The corner of Helen's mouth began to twitch, and she brought up her other hand to cover it.

Jake gave Helen's shoulder a gentle squeeze, then put his smile back on and continued. He was sweating. "...But I think we'll be able to keep basic cable TV, and I can save money by doing the shopping and cooking myself."

Quinn made another strangled squeaky noise, this time echoed by Helen and Daria.

"Dad, we want to help out. We'll do our share of the shopping and cooking," Daria said quickly.

"Yeah, Dad, we insist," Quinn added before Jake could object.

"Aww, you girls are the greatest," Jake beamed.

"That's for me," Helen said in a shaky voice, as she got up and headed toward the phone.

Jake grabbed her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. "The phone didn't ring, honey, the phone didn't ring," he said soothingly, and eased her back down onto the sofa. For a second, Helen looked as if she would fight her way to the phone, then she slumped forward and buried her face in her hands. Jake put an arm around her shoulders.

Daria looked at her parents huddled together on the sofa. "Uh, well, I guess we should start planning what we can do to help out. If that's all you have, Dad, I'm going to print up some cards advertising my, uh, typing service, and post them on the bulletin boards at Lawndale Community College. And, um, research service. Yeah, research, that's the ticket..." She rose and headed for the stairs.

"That's the spirit, Kiddo. I'm proud of you," Jake said. "Come on, honey, want to take your pill and have a nice nap?" he said to Helen, who was getting twitchier. He helped her to her feet. "Oh, Quinn," he said as they made their way to the stairs, "I'm afraid I'm going to need you to return that advance on your allowance I gave you, Kitten. And the credit card. You understand."

In her room, Daria switched on her computer and began collecting her cash on hand from several hidden stashes, preparatory to moving it out of the house to a safer location. She trusted her parents, but she wasn't sure about Quinn. _So Dad's going to stop donating to the Thursday night poker game, is he?_ she thought. _Good. That closes a big leak in his finances. It also means an empty seat at the table. _Daria smiled.

Downstairs in the family room, Quinn sat alone, hands still over her mouth, eyes still wide with shock. Big tears formed in them and rolled down her unlined cheeks. Now Quinn knew when the good old days were. They were the days that had just ended.

Daria was going through her word processor's help files to find out how to print multiple copies of a notice on one page when there was a soft knock at her door. "''Tis some sibling there,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door. Only this, and nothing more."

The door opened and Quinn entered hesitantly, blinking and wiping away a tear, but smiling a little. "You are so weird," she said.

"Quoth the raven, "You are so weird?" Mmm…nope, doesn't rhyme."

Quinn chuckled a little, but her smile quickly faded. "How can you make jokes at a time like this?"

"How could I not? Times like this are when we need jokes."

"Huh. I never thought of it like that. But what are we going to do, Daria? I can't make it on my full allowance, much less half. My fashion club duties…"

"Oh, please. Mom and Dad might buy that fashion club b.s, lord knows why, but I know better. Your 'duties' are exactly what you want them to be."

"Oh, you don't understand _anything!_ I was nuts to think _you'd_ help me!" Quinn spun angrily on her heel and reached for the doorknob.

"I didn't say I wouldn't help you."

Quinn stopped short and looked back at Daria, her expression a mix of doubt and hope.

Daria held up two fingers. "Two things. First, we should be putting Mom's needs ahead of our own, and Dad's too."

Quinn looked down at her feet. "Yeah. I guess you're right. Geez, who'd have thought Mom would just crack up like this? Dad, maybe, but not Mom."

"It's always the strong ones that have the sudden catastrophic breakdowns. Dad's been having a sort of rolling breakdown for as long as I can remember. He doesn't let stuff build up inside. The way pressure has been building on Mom lately, I'm surprised she held out as long as she did. And when I found out that last 'intimacy retreat' they went on was actually to Quiet Ivy…"

"It was? Oh, geez. Well, do you think she'll get better? After a rest, I mean?"

"Yeah, I think so. Mom's pretty tough. Some romance novels, some mindless TV, some chocolate, some coddling from us, maybe a trip to the beach or a mountain cabin, and she'll be good as new."

Quinn smiled. "I hope you're right. Then she'll go back to work?"

Daria frowned. "I don't know if she should, at least not back to her old job. That's what messed her up in the first place."

Quinn's smile was replaced by a look of apprehension. "But can we make it on Dad's income alone?"

"We'll have to, at least for a while. If we follow his belt-tightening plan and help out a little, I think we can."

"But Daria, I've been getting twenty bucks a week from Mom, and another twenty from Dad! You know that; you did it too. I can't make it on ten! I can't live like that!"

"Imagine my surprise. That brings us to the second thing. You're going to have to find an outside source of income and earn what you need, Quinn. That's what I'm going to do."

Quinn stepped around to where she could read Daria's monitor screen. "Typing? Can you make decent money at that?"

"Pretty good, if you can get enough work, but just plain typing isn't what I have in mind."

Quinn gave Daria a puzzled look. "Then what do you have in mind?"

"I'm going to start selling term papers again, like I did when we went to Middleton College. That trip taught me that some people would go to any length to avoid learning something. I already sort of knew that from all the schoolwork I sold you, of course, but I didn't know college kids would pay so much for it."

"Hmph. Well, that's okay for you, but it doesn't help me any. What can I do, besides flip burgers?"

"I'm sure you can think of something. Like, do you have anything you don't want anymore? Something collectible? Put it up for sale on Otay. I'm gonna start selling my old MTG cards. I haven't played for a while, and a lot of those cards have never been used."

"I wouldn't think old Magic cards would sell for enough to make it worth the effort."

"You forget the collectible aspect of them. I've got a couple of cards that are worth over a hundred bucks apiece, and I have over two thousand cards altogether."

"Damn!" Quinn's expression of wonder faded to sadness. "But I don't have anything like that."

"Old Barbie dolls? Stuffed animals? Posters? Music? They say you can sell anything on Otay."

"Hmm… well, maybe. But I've only got so much stuff."

"Yeah. It's indeed tragic, but sooner or later you're going to have to look for some sort of job. You'd do well as a waitress."

"Eewww!"

"Think of it as a specialized form of dating. Hire on somewhere teenage guys go. Think of all the money a guy spends on you on a date, then think of dating eight tables full of guys at once. You'll probably be able to buy a convertible within a month."

"Hmmm… that might not be so bad after all. You're pretty smart, Daria. Got any other ideas?"

"For you? Well, I saw a movie at Lackluster Videos a couple of weeks ago. It might give you some ideas. The title was Bikini Car Wash."

…


	2. Ch 2

FOGGY LAWYER BREAKDOWN  
Chapter Two  
by Lawndale Stalker

"Daria! I hope you're not saying I should go out in a bikini and shake my booty and jiggle my hoo-has for money!"

"What I'm saying is that you're cute and popular the way Godzilla is big and ugly, and you should think of jobs you could do where those qualities would be assets to you."

Quinn gave Daria a suspicious look, and stared off into space for several seconds as she carefully parsed that sentence. Finally, she said, "Oh! Okay, I'll do that."

"And don't throw out the car wash idea completely. Propose it to the fashion club as a fundraiser. For, say, needy teens whose clothes are about to go out of style."

Quinn grinned. "Hee hee! Sometimes we almost think alike, Daria! It's kinda scary."

"Eek. No kidding."

Quinn exited and Daria, smiling slightly and shaking her head, turned back to her monitor. Adding one of her throwaway email addresses gave her:

SPEEDY TYPING SERVICE

COMPOSITIONS REPORTS ESSAYS TERM PAPERS

Neat Accurate Reasonable Rates Confidential

Research Service Also Available

Email: 

It took her several more minutes to figure out how to print small vertical copies of the email address along the bottom that could be torn off by customers. Then, using the copy and column functions and adjusting the size of the letters, she produced a page that could be cut into eight small notices, nearly three by five inches in size. Selecting a sheet of yellow and a sheet of pink printer paper, she loaded them into her printer.

…

Jake Morgendorffer lay on the small sofa in his office, waiting for the phone to ring. He had no appointments till three. Usually about this time on a slow day, he'd walk over to the Barkin' Girl Bar and Grill for lunch, a beer or two, and maybe some pool. But if a call came in, the caller might not wait for it to be automatically transferred to his cell phone. He wanted to be able to answer it on the first ring. He looked over at the phone, which rested on the coffee table within reach, on top of a couple of old model railroading magazines. The phone remained silent.

Jake sighed. Anyway, eating at the Barkin' Girl was a luxury, a luxury he couldn't afford right now. His gaze wandered from the phone to his shoes, smartly shined this morning and just dusted off a few minutes ago. From his shoes his eyes wandered to the corner of the sofa, which was looking a trifle worn. He made a note to look into having it reupholstered as soon as business picked up and then, having nothing better to look at, closed his eyes.

A car pulled into the parking lot outside and its engine cut off. Jake wondered if it might be someone coming to see him, but didn't get up. Clients almost never dropped in on him unannounced. Doubtless whoever it was had come to one of the other small businesses that rented office space here in this small strip mall turned office park.

When Jake had first rented office space here, shortly after arriving from Highland, he'd figured he'd move into more prestigious quarters as soon as he got established. Andrew Landon sure had, as soon as he'd sold manufacturing rights to his folding coffee cup. Andy'd moved his family into Crewe Neck pretty quickly, too.

Jake squirmed uncomfortably. He'd blown what might have been a chance to do likewise, shortly after that. The client had asked for his honest opinion. And he, like a fool, had given it to him. Cigar shaped pet food snacks? Interesting idea, he'd said. Might be funny the first couple of times, he'd said. But after the novelty wore off, what was there to make the customers buy a second box? You might want to give it a little more thought before you bet the farm on it, he'd said. His honest opinion.

So the guy'd thanked him, walked out, found some other consultant who'd schmoozed him and flattered him and stroked his ego and told him he was a genius, just like Jake would've done if he hadn't been being honest, and the guy'd gone and bet the farm, and the stupid pet cigars'd been a smash success. Apparently there were a lot of pet owners out there who cracked up each and every time they saw Fido or Fifi with a cigar shaped pet snack in its mouth. Even the little tiny ones for fish were flying off the shelves. Jake wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, if the guy had put that other consultant on retainer, and if so, how much that consultant was pulling down.

A knock interrupted Jake's recriminatory reverie. He almost sprang off the couch in his haste to get to the door. Flinging it wide, he called out in his most jovial tones, "Hello, come right in, I'm Jake Morgendorffer, welcome to Jake Morgendorffer Consulting!"

Quinn stood there, holding a picnic basket. "Hi, Daddy. I brought lunch."

"Aww, that's sweet of you, Kitten. Come in!"

Quinn entered and looked around the office, then spread a plastic tablecloth on Jake's desk, then laid out the food and two foam plates. She poured iced tea into two plastic tumblers.

Jake sat down and helped himself to reheated lasagna and green beans. Quinn put some carrot and celery sticks on her plate, and a small helping of lasagna. They ate in silence for several minutes, Quinn continuing to examine the office and its contents, Jake glancing at her as if expecting her to comment.

"So, uhh, how's your mother? And Daria?" he asked, mostly to break the awkward silence.

"They're fine. Mom flipped through some news channels and soap operas, then found a movie she hadn't seen. Daria's sitting with her, reading something." Quinn daintily bit off a length of celery stick.

"That's good. Your mother hasn't had a good rest in too long. She deserves it."

"Yeah, really. Uh, Dad, did she really resign?"

"Yes, Quinn, she did." An unhappy look crossed Jake's place, to be replaced by one of determination. "That place was just too stressful, especially for someone as hard-working and conscientious as your mother. She has trouble saying no to people, and they were taking advantage of her." His look changed to one of anger. "Especially that damned Eric. I'd like to take that phone of his and shove it where…"

"Blood pressure, Daddy!" Quinn reminded him as she picked up the tea jug. "Here, have some more iced tea."

Jake smiled and, with an effort, calmed down. He took a long drink of iced tea and wiped the cup across his forehead. "You're right, Kitten. I don't need any doctor bills right now. Lousy blood sucking…"

"Daddy! Cool breeze! Meadow! Flowers and bunnies!"

"I'm okay, I'm okay! Cool breeze!" Jake grinned sheepishly.

Quinn smiled and tried not to look worried. "When you're done with lunch, I brought some fresh cookies."

"Wow, you baked fresh cookies? For me?"

"Well actually Daria baked them. But I'm gonna bake the next batch. So, uh, Mom's retired permanently?"

Jake frowned and stared at the tablecloth as he chewed his lasagna. "Let's say for the foreseeable future. She needs to take it easy and depressurize, completely unwind, however long that takes. The doc—uh, I'd say a month, absolute minimum. Then we'll see what she feels like doing, and we'll talk about it. I hope she doesn't want to go back to that shark tank."

Quinn reached into the basket and brought out a container. "Yeah, I guess, but somehow I can't picture Mom sitting home all day doing macramé." She opened the lid and the fragrance of chocolate chip cookies wafted out.

"Ooh, I love chocolate chip cookies!" said Jake, eagerly grabbing one.

Quinn started to close up the other containers and put them away. "I'll leave you the cookies and the tea, then. I'm gonna go home and hang with Mom for a while, and Daria's going to do the grocery shopping." She stuffed everything back into the basket. "See you when you get home."

"Okay, Kitten! Thanks!" Jake said. Quinn waved and smiled as she went out the door. Jake smiled too as he leaned back, pulled one of his salesmanship books off a shelf, and helped himself to another cookie.

Jake was startled out of his doze by a knock at the door. A quick look at his watch told him that it wasn't yet two p.m. He marked his place in his book, put away the tea and cookies, and stepped quickly to the door, brushing cookie crumbs off his tie.

"Hello, come right in, I'm Jake Morgendorffer, welcome—oh, hi, Daria. I thought you were going grocery shopping."

"I am. I thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted me to pick up anything in particular." Daria stepped forward and Jake moved aside to let her enter. She held a small notebook and a pencil.

"Hmm, well… I've been meaning to make some Bul Goki. It's a Korean version of beef stew. The ingredients are the same, except it needs some Chinese cabbage, and some Star Anise. I'd need a good piece of stew beef, some onions and garlic. We have enough potatoes and carrots. Think you can get that?"

Daria wrote in her notebook. "No problem, except I don't know where to find the Star Anise. But I can ask." She looked around the office and made another note.

"Get some chicken. That's cheaper than beef or pork."

"Right. I was gonna get a bag of leg quarters. They're twenty-nine cents a pound."

"Good thinking. That's the way to stretch the ol' food dollar! Oh, and see if they have any fresh habańero peppers. Four or five should be enough."

Daria wrote something that had nothing to do with habańero peppers, while making a mental note not to find any. She glanced at the sofa and coffee table. "Well, if that's all, I'll go on. I hope you're not working too hard."

"I wish I were. I've got a prospective client coming over at three, and that's all for today. How've you and Helen been?"

"Good. She took it easy all morning, till she started getting twitchy. We found out that speedwalking gets rid of the twitches if she really goes at it. I almost collapsed trying to keep up with her."

Jake grinned "Thanks, Kiddo. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Daria paused as she went out the door. "And so that we don't have to find out, I'm letting Quinn go with Mom on her next speedwalk."

…

Helen bemusedly continued to flip through the TV channels. Quinn, sitting near her on the couch, tried to immerse herself in her magazine and ignore Helen's channel surfing. She paused occasionally on a news or weather channel, and showed a worrisome interest in 'Sick Sad World', but not enough to stay with it long. Quinn sincerely hoped this was a temporary aberration. She was forcing her attention back to her magazine again when she heard a car pull into the driveway.

"Sounds like Daria's back. I'll go help her with the groceries," Quinn said. Helen nodded vaguely.

Daria was opening the rear door of the SUV as Quinn stepped out the door. She stood and waited as Quinn approached, hand on a grocery sack. "She okay?"

"Yeah," Quinn said quietly. "She's discovered channel surfing. She only imagined the phone ringing twice."

Daria frowned. "Well, that's an improvement, I guess."

"What did you think?" Quinn asked.

"You were right. The furniture doesn't quite go with the paint and carpet, and it all looks slightly sad and shopworn. And there aren't any accent colors."

"I didn't expect you to notice that. What do you think it needs?"

Daria pondered briefly. "A still life with grapes and ripe mangos or deep red apples would do it."

"Haha! Oh, that's good!"

"What's so funny?"

"It was just so unexpected," Quinn replied. "I never would have thought of a still life. It would work, though. I was thinking more along the lines of a burgundy upholstered chair or a couple of burgundy throw pillows."

"That only fixes one thing, though. And I wouldn't buy new throw pillows for that scruffy sofa, even if I was sure that throw pillows are appropriate in an office, which I'm not."

"Mm. What else?"

"Well, he's in serious need of a magazine upgrade in the waiting area. All he has is some old magazines about toy trains. I hate to think what impression that gives clients."

"Oh, gee. That's bad. I didn't notice that."

"And that cheap false front they put on when they converted the stores to offices is deterioring. The stucco is dingy and cracking and streaked with rust, and that parking lot is about three years overdue for repaving. And almost half the offices are empty. The place looks downright seedy." Daria looked down at the SUV's bumper. "I feel guilty for not noticing it sooner".

"Yeah, me too," said Quinn. "I can't remember the last time I was there."

"I know. Dad just kind of left in the mornings and showed up in the evenings, and we didn't give much thought to where he went or what he was doing. Now that I've seen the place, I'm surprised he brings in as much as he does. He must be a better consultant than we thought he was. Imagine what he could do if he had an office that said, "I'm a bright, dynamic, successful consultant."

"But this is kind of a bad time for him to be moving to an upscale office."

"Maybe. But we can be thinking about it."

…


	3. ch 3

FOGGY LAWYER BREAKDOWN  
Chapter Three  
by Lawndale Stalker

Jake stirred the spices into the stew he was working on. Daria stood to his left at the sink, rinsing out a bowl she'd peeled potatoes in. She divided her attention between Jake and Helen, who was making tea. Quinn was chopping salad ingredients. Daria caught Quinn's eye and jerked her head slightly toward Jake.

Jake raised the long-handled wooden spoon toward his lips. Quinn came over to his right carrying the cutting board. "Dad, is this lettuce chopped fine enough?" she asked.

"That's fine."

"How about the carrots?"

"They're fine, too, Kitten." Jake turned back to his spoon.

"What about bell peppers, Dad? How many should I cut up?"

Jake turned back to Quinn. "One should be fine."

Quinn glanced quickly behind Jake and then back. "Okay."

Jake turned and sipped from the spoon he'd been holding. "Hmm. Needs more Basil, Thyme, and Cayenne." He reached for the spice containers on the counter, but they were gone. "Hey, where'd my spices go?"

"Didn't I see you measure them and put them in?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, but that wasn't enough." Jake looked in the drawer where the spices were kept. "Dang it! Where are they? Did Daria take them? Where's Daria?"

"She was here washing a bowl a minute ago," said Helen. They looked around, but Daria was not in sight.

Quinn got a spoon and tasted the stew. "Mm, this is good. I wouldn't put any more spice in it."

Jake searched drawers and cabinets, muttering and grumbling. Helen, curious, tasted the stew also. "Jake, honey, this tastes good to me. Taste it again."

Still grumbling, Jake took another taste. "It's not—hmm, it's not bad, now. Did someone spice it up some more?"

Helen and Quinn shook their heads. Daria chose this moment to reenter the kitchen.

"Daria, did you take the spices I was using?" Jake asked.

"I put them away. I thought you were through with them."

"Where did you put them?"

Daria opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out some spice containers. "Under here."

"Under the sink? That's not where they go!"

"Oh, it's not? Sorry," Daria said.

Giving her a dubious look, which Daria returned with no discernible expression, Jake took the containers. Behind him, he didn't see Quinn cover a smirk with one hand.

Jake unscrewed the lid of the little cayenne pepper bottle. "Well, a dash more seasoning, and my camp stew should be ready in a few minutes."

"Jake, that doesn't need any more seasoning," Helen said.

"Hey, who's the chef here?"

Helen got a large bowl out of a cabinet and handed it to Jake. "Put enough for the three of us in here first. Then you can mess up the rest of it, if you must."

Grumbling, Jake took a ladle and filled the bowl, which Daria took and put on the table. "Think I'm an idiot or something," he muttered, "think I'm gonna just dump in a shovelful without tasting." He shook in more crushed cayenne peppers, basil flakes, and tiny thyme leaves, stirred the stew briefly, and tasted it. "Still needs a little more thyme and cayenne," he said, reaching again for the cayenne bottle, "but I tasted it first, I didn't just…"

"Shouldn't you give it a minute, Dad?" Daria asked him.

"Huh? Give what?"

"Give the flavor enough time to cook out of the spice and diffuse through the stew."

"Kiddo, your old man was making camp stew before you were born!" Jake said, shaking more crushed cayenne into the stew, followed by more thyme. He stirred and tasted again. "Ah, just right! Now I'll just let it simmer covered while we set the table…"

…

"There's enough for you girls to have some, if you get tired of that bland, underseasoned stuff you've got there," Jake said as he sat down with a bowl of stew from the pot.

Helen cocked an eyebrow. "That's nice, dear, but we think this tastes just right," she replied. "I wish I could say there's enough here for you in case you got that too hot again, but it looks like just enough for the three of us."

"That won't be a problem," said Jake, digging in. "I was very careful this time" He took in a big spoonful. Suddenly his eyes got big and round. "Oolp!"

Daria looked up. "Something the matter, Dad?" she asked.

Jake glanced toward the sink and then the patio door, then, looking distinctly uncomfortable, swallowed his mouthful of stew. "I must've just gotten a chunk of cayenne." He fanned his hand in front of his mouth. "Happens sometimes."

"Yeah, I hate it when that happens. Why don't you chase it with another mouthful?"

Jake shot a quick glance at Daria. Her expression was completely devoid of sarcasm. Helen and Quinn were watching him too, he saw. "Uh, yeah, good idea," he said and took another spoonful. His eyes got very big and round, and he lost no time getting to the sink and spitting it down the drain.

"What's the matter, Daddy? asked Quinn as he drank large quantities of water from the faucet, "did you get another clump of cayenne?"

"I don't get it! I was careful not to put in too much spice! I was!" He got a clean spoon out of the drawer and tasted the stew in the pot. "Gaah! It's not fair, dammit!"

"Jake, it takes time for the flavor to build up in food after the spice is added. You're not waiting long enough before you taste and add more spices," Helen said. "Rinse your bowl out and have some of this."

Jake rinsed his bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher. "Thanks, honey, but I wouldn't be able to taste it. My tongue's kind of burnt now." He picked up his iced tea glass and went into the family room.

As Daria watched him go, she recalled something Ben Franklin had written. _Experience keeps a dear school, but a fool will learn in no other._ She sighed.

"What is it, Daria?" asked Helen.

"Oh… nothing. I was just wondering if he'll remember that the next time he cooks."

Helen turned to watch as Jake disappeared into the family room, and sighed.

...


	4. Ch 4

If you have a strange feeling that you've seen the first part of this before, you're right. I moved it from chapter three for reasons of continuity.

FOGGY LAWYER BREAKDOWN  
Chapter Four  
by Lawndale Stalker  
…

Daria trudged into the kitchen, scowling at the cheery morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Dad had left for work, and Mom and Quinn were still sleeping. This would be a good time to get some writing done, once she got her brain started. She could see that there was half a pot of brain starter fluid left in the coffeepot.

As Daria rounded the range island, the phone rang. She made sufficient haste to pick it up before it rang again. "Hello?

"Helen?" It was Eric.

"No."

"May I speak to Helen, please?"

"No."

"May I ask why not?"

"Yes."

There was a silence of several seconds, during which Daria mentally counted down her estimate of Eric's IQ. Finally, at about eighty, he got it.

"Well, why not?"

"Doctor's orders."

"What doctor's orders?"

"That's confidential. I can't release that information."

"This is Eric Schrecter, Helen's boss at work."

"Not any more."

"Look, just tell her that Eric called, and that I need her to call me back. Can you do that?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

Daria hung up.

Three seconds later the phone rang again. Daria, expecting this, snatched it up less than a quarter second into the first ring. "Hello?"

"Look, uh, I'm sorry I lost my temper and, uh, used an impolite word there, uh… who am I speaking with, anyway?"

"Daria."

"Oh. Well, um, why won't you give her a message from me?"

"Doctor's orders."

"What orders?"

"I believe we've covered that. If there's nothing else…"

"I need to speak with Helen!"

"Helen needs not to speak with you, or anyone else work-related, for a month at the absolute minimum. After that time, I'll tell her you called. Please don't call back before then. Good morning." Daria hung up, turned the ringer volume down low, and proceeded to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Good thing I was already in a bad mood," she muttered. "I don't mind having it spoiled so much."

...

Quinn came into the kitchen, looking like a Cashman's catalog model, as Daria was biting into a sugar tart. Turning up her upturned nose at Daria's choice of breakfast fare, she proceeded to mix up a pitcher of orange-guava-kiwi-passionfruit juice.

"Quinn."

"What?"

"What do you think about setting up an office for Dad in the front part of the family room. It would get him out of that run-down converted strip mall he's in, and whatever money he's paying to rent the place could go back into the household budget."

"Hmm, I don't know, Daria. I, I mean we, wouldn't be able to bring our friends over during his business hours, and we'd always have to be fully dressed before we came downstairs."

"It's just an idea. Give it some thought, and compare it with the situation he's in now. We can talk about it this evening and decide whether to suggest it to Dad and Mom."

Surprised and a little flattered that Daria would ask her opinion about anything, Quinn said, "Okay. Um, can you watch Mom this morning? The Fashion Club's going to the mall."

"I had morning shift yesterday. I was going to go over to Jane's."

"Oh, come on. You know Jane isn't even awake yet. Please?"

"I guess it can wait till later. What are you going to fix Dad for lunch?"

Quinn looked surprised. "Oh, poo. Is it my turn? Listen, Daria, could you do that today? I'll owe you one."

Daria gave her sister a look from beneath a lowered eyebrow and said nothing.

"Oh, all right! I'll owe you two."

"I'll do it, but I'll need you to go right now and get me a head of lettuce and some salad tomatoes. And you have to be back here by noon so I can take Dad his lunch. If you'll do that, you just owe me one."

"Okay. I'll be right back. Thanks, Daria!" said Quinn as she went out the door.

…

Daria was just settling down with a notepad, a pencil, and a glass of juice when the patio door opened again. Quinn hurried in and began putting the lettuce and tomatoes in the refrigerator. "I thought of something on the way," she said. "If Dad worked from home, one of us wouldn't necessarily have to stay here all the time."

"Good point," Daria replied. "Also, he wouldn't have the second phone line and the broadband internet connection taken out, because he'll need them for work."

"Hey, yeah! I'm starting to like this idea! See you later."

"At noon."

"At noon," Quinn said, and was gone again.

Daria had just started to write when Helen entered the kitchen. She was wearing one of her red power suits, but no shoes, and she hadn't fixed her hair. "Was that the phone?" she asked.

Carefully keeping her expression neutral, Daria replied, "No, that was Quinn. She just left. Did you sleep well?"

Helen rubbed her face sleepily. "I need some coffee," she muttered.

"Here, have some juice first," Daria said, handing her a glassful. "How do you want your eggs?"

…


End file.
